Polka-dotted kittens, 1%months
old, romp with the author's daugh
ter Karen. The Division of Wildlife
Services office in Boise, Idaho, pre
sented the two males to the Horn
ocker family to aid in the lion re
search. Named Tommy and Flop
sy, the orphans flourished on a
diet of baby formula and, later,
horse meat. Distinct spots and tail
rings last about four months.
Rumbling purrs greet Karen as
she pets Tommy and Flopsy. At 15
months of age their spots barely
show. The "talk" of the kittens
helped the author discover how
mountain lions communicate in
the wild. Various whistle-like
sounds, resembling bird calls, in
dicated alarm or pleasure.
then part, and the male plays no further role
in the family life.
After a gestation period of about 90 days
the spotted young, numbering one to a maxi
mum of six (the largest litter we observed
wasthree)areborninacaveorinadenun
der a windfall. They are helpless at birth, but
grow quite rapidly. The mother brings food
to them in addition to providing milk.
I am not certain when they leave the den
in which they were born, but it is probably at
about two months of age. After this they may
utilize different temporary dens and caves
while the mother forages for food, but they
never again depend upon a home den.
Drugging Can Be Deceptive
Our work was not accomplished without
incident. Once we had completed the arduous
physical task of tracking down, treeing, and
drugging an animal, we usually had to climb
to it, tie a rope around a back leg, and lower it
to the ground (page 646). At first I had experi
mented with immobilizing drugs, but these
presented too much danger to the mountain
lions-immobilized cats fell from the trees
and were subject to injury. The tranquilizing
drug I settled on merely calmed the animals,
instead of immobilizing them, and they re
mained in the trees.
Sometimes it was difficult to tell if a cat
actually was drugged and safe to approach.
652
Usually they gave some telltale indication
drooling, jerky head movements, unsteady
eyes-but sometimes we were fooled. Early
in the study, in an unnamed valley adjacent
to Cave Creek on the northern side of the
study area, we treed a large tawny male in a
half-rotten fir that leaned far out over a cliff.
I fired a drug-laden dart into his hip and after
ten minutes or so was sure he was ready to
lower to the ground.
Strapping on the tree-climbing spurs, I
began to approach him. Fully occupied with
climbing, I could not keep watch on the big
cat 30 feet above me. And I tried not to notice
the cliff face that fell away below.
I could hear the lion breathing as I got
near. Just as I started to glance up, Wilbur
shouted, "Watch out, he's coming down!"
By hugging the trunk, I managed to move
to my left at his warning-only to find myself
staring into the face of the lion no more than
three feet away. He had half-slipped, half
leaped to a lower limb while I was climbing. I
stared into his chilling, amber eyes, then real
ized that his gaze was unsteady. The animal
was partially drugged.
I dug a spur into the tree and pushed my
self up. At that, the big cat literally dived down
the trunk, tearing off chunks of bark with his
gripping claws. He sprang from the tree and
sailed like a huge flying squirrel seven feet
long onto the snow at the cliff's edge. With